


Stars

by FiloX



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gun Fucking, Hurt Ian Gallagher, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Rape/Non-con Elements, please heed the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22224604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiloX/pseuds/FiloX
Summary: Ian went missing the day Terry walked in on them.Mickey will never forget where he found him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Terry Milkovich/Ian Gallagher
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I kept having dreams about Terry Milkovich, so I wrote this.  
> Also thanks to some friends’ encouragements and ideas XD

Ian was missing.

Ever since the incident with Terry walking in on them, and all that transpired after, Ian was nowhere to be found.

At first Mickey had not known, since he was trying his best to avoid the redhead anyway. Then Ian's siblings had come to him asking about Ian, that was when Mickey found out with a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach that Ian had been missing ever since that fateful day - apparently he never went back to the group home or showed up to work that day or since.

Mickey was in turmoil. He had promised himself since that day that he would never have anything more to do with that boy, or being gay, ever again, because it was just all too difficult and too much to bear. Yet, there was nothing more he wanted to do right now than to go out there and find Ian, to make sure that the stupid redhead was ok. He paced in his room like a caged animal, he scratched his eyebrow and chain smoked - and still could not stop himself from dashing out into the streets to join the search party for Ian Gallagher.

The police were involved, all the Gallagher siblings and the neighbours looked and looked and looked, yet Ian still could not be found. Days turned into weeks, and the hopes were starting to fade.

Mickey lay awake at night unable to sleep, unable to quiet his burdened mind. Where would Ian have gone to? Did he run away from the neighbourhood because of what his dad did? But without telling anyone? Not even his family? Did he get kidnapped or murdered?

Suddenly he thought heard some noises in the house. He's not that surprised since his dad and siblings seem to be awake all hours of the night doing the myriad of illegal things that he was often involved in too. Wide awake now, Mickey decided to go to the kitchen to grab some midnight snacks - and that was when he saw his dad coming up from the basement, buckling his belt. Mickey's presence seemed to startle him, but he quickly collected himself and grunted an acknowledgement before hastily retiring to his room.

Mickey frowned and thought back to the past few weeks... his dad seemed to be using the basement an awful lot, and appeared to be coming and going from it at all hours of the day... and night, so it seemed. Thinking of it, was the basement always locked? Mickey felt a sense of dread settling in his stomach.

The next day, Mickey waited for his dad to leave the house before he made his move. He remembered from his younger years when he and his siblings would play hide-and-seek in the house, they would often escape from a secret passage from the basement that linked to the outside to give an added layer of difficulty to the game. They hadn't played the game for years, but Mickey quickly found the outside passage hidden amongst overgrown bushes in the backyard. After a short distance of crawling in a tight tunnel, he pushed open the panel hidden behind shelves at the back of the basement - then the smell hit him - the smell of sweat and blood and a musty scent.

Mickey could only crouch stunned on the floor at the sight before him.

A figure of a human being was curled up in a fetal position at the edge of a dirty mattress, on the floor of the basement in Mickey's own house. A figure with red hair.

"Ian?" Mickey called out, but the figure didn't move. His heart filled with dread. 

He carefully approached the figure, and fully took in the horrific sight before him.

His red hair was clumped together with blood and grime, his green eyes were dull and unfocused, the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and their rims red. Dried tear tracks stained his pale cheeks, as well as a cut and bruises around his right cheek. He was wearing a gag that was locked at the back with a padlock. The rest of his body was even worse. The thin blanket he tried to wrap around himself barely covered him, and Mickey could see bruises of varying ages marring his pale skin, purpling finger marks around his neck. His wrists were cuffed and chained to the wall. Mickey could see raw wounds peeking beneath the cuffs. There was dried blood on the mattress and on the blanket. 

Mickey could see the shallow but steady rise and fall of his chest. Thank god, still alive. But god knows what his dad had done to Ian these past three weeks.

He reached out to gently touch Ian's shoulder, the boy flinched away, and his large green eyes finally focused on him. He made a muffled sound around the gag.

"Yes it's me, Mickey." He tried to reach towards the redhead again, wanting to comfort, wanting to make sure he's definitely real, but Ian began to shake.

"Shh, shh... it's ok," Mickey backed off, but continued to try and sooth Ian with his words. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

The wild look seemed to have gone from Ian's eyes, and he slowly nodded. Mickey could see he tried his best not to flinch away when he approached to examine his cuffs.

The sound of approaching footsteps and the turning of a key interrupted the relative silence. Fuck! His dad was back already? Mickey could see the panic he felt reflected back at him in Ian's eyes. His heart began to race. Cold sweat poured off him profusely and his hands became clammy. His dad would kill him if he finds him now, he had never been more sure of anything else in his life.

Mickey dived into a nearby cupboard as his dad came down the stairs of the basement, trying his best to will his pounding heart and panicked breath to slow so that his dad won't hear him.

* * *

Terry Milkovich was a fair man. At least that's how he saw it - he dealt out fitting punishments to those who deserved it. Like this ginger boy right here. Trying to turn his son into a fucking faggot with his exotic red hair, his large wistful green eyes, and his boyish good looks. Terry always prided himself in being able to sniff out the fags, yet somehow he'd missed this one. This one had tricked him into thinking he was normal by going out with his daughter, the little imposter! That's how he's flew under Terry's radar all these years, god knows how long he's been fucking his son!

He had kept him in his basement for weeks, tormenting him, hurting him, fucking him.

Yes, he fucked him too, so what? That didn't make him a fag. He did this all the time in prison to those bitches who needed to be taught a lesson.

It's not like Terry could see what his disappointment of a son could see in the redhead. Those large beautiful green eyes, long lashes holding onto unshed tears, delicate, almost feminent features that are definitely not becoming more angular and masculine - nope it's definitely the feminent features that are turning him on right now, Terry tried to convince himself. The well proportioned sculptured body, the well endowed manhood - Terry shook his head, nope, not gay at all.

Terry still remembered the first day he'd captured the redhead. He was only beginning to wake up from his drug induced slumber Terry put him under earlier. Lashes fluttering seductively at Terry, that fucking tease! The boy's eyes had widened in shock when he saw who was approaching. Ian tried to shout for help only to realise he was gagged. Tried to run but realised he was chained to the wall. Tried his best to cover himself when he discovered that he was naked as well.

Being the larger of the two, Terry overpowered the trapped boy easily, pressing him face down onto the mattress on the floor. "Let me show you what I do to fucking faggots." He took the safety off his gun and aimed the cold barrel at the boy's temple. Ian was shaking under him, his entire body tense as a coil and crying silently in fear. "No," Terry withdrew the gun away from the boy's temple. "I won't let you go this easily," he traced the barrel of the gun down the redhead's spine. "You'll have to be punished first." Without warning, Terry thrusted the barrel of his gun into the boy's rectum. Ian screamed.

Terry sneered, and cruelly pistoned the gun in and out of Ian's tight hole, enjoying the boy's muffled cries of agony and futile struggles under him. He watched the barrel begin to coat in blood, making its passage in and out of the boy much more easily. It was somewhere between feeling the lithe body rubbing against him from its struggles to watching mesmerised at the pucker sucking in the barrel of his gun that Terry realised he was rock hard.

_ What man can resist a young body and a tight hole? _ Terry reasoned with himself as he unzipped his pants and replaced the gun with his cock.

And that's what he told himself as he found himself going down to the basement again and again, fucking that ginger boy who tried to bring shame onto the Milkovich name.

In the beginning the boy fought him constantly, and Terry would go away satisfied but also covered in his fair share of cuts and bruises. But he enjoyed the fight, it made him harder, and his punishments crueler. However as the weeks went by, Ian gradually fought less and less, and eventually gave up fighting all together, resigned to his fate, or perhaps due to malnourishment and prolonged captivity. Eventually Terry felt like he was screwing a fucking doll, that's how lifeless Ian had become. Terry felt himself getting bored. Perhaps he should kill the boy and dispose of his body soon. 

Maybe he'll do it after one last fuck.

As he descended the basement stairs, Terry noticed Ian was different today. His eyes were full of life again, wide with fear but no longer glassy. He's moving finally for god's sake, although trying to move away from Terry as much as his chains would allow. He was making muffled noises behind his gag, his large eyes filled with tears and his breaths hitching. Terry was so turned on right now.

He lunged towards the redhead and pulled him beneath him with a powerful tug on his ankles, his grip firm on the boy's thigh as he unbuckled his own pants with the other hand, and then-

* * *

Mickey watched his dad through the small gap between the cupboard doors. His hands were wrapped around his own mouth and nose to silence his own rapid breaths. He had never been more terrified in his life. Not when he was shot by that stupid towelhead boyfriend of Ian's. Not when he was taken to juvie. Not when he was shot by the wife of yet another one of Ian's stupid geriatric boyfriends. Yet his own father can always instill the fear of god in him.

He would definitely kill Mickey if he finds him in here.

He watched helplessly as his dad advanced towards a crying, defenseless Ian, as he grabbed the boy's kicking ankles and manhandled him beneath his own large frame. As he roughly spread Ian's thighs and then went to unbuckle his own belt-

-and suddenly something snapped inside of Mickey, something that seemed to override all primal forms of self-preservation, silencing his once all consuming fear, and his better judgement. Something that seemed to well up from the depth of his heart, an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, of anger, and of something else he forbade himself to think about. A red fog seemed to fall over him, and the next thing he knew, he was standing over the prone figure of his father, holding a heavy wrench in his hand, stained with his father's blood.

He would never forget the look in Ian's eyes at that moment as he stared at Mickey, like he had made the fucking stars.


End file.
